Follow Me Home
by Scruff the Rat
Summary: A mere thief is someone who steals for self-benefit. Diego, on the other hand, is a thief of another breed for what he steals is not something to be taken for granted...
1. Daredevil's Gamble

**There will be numerous translations in this story, so just know that if there are words in a language that isn't English, there will be words in parentheses to tell you what they mean.**

**I do not own Hey Arnold by the way. Only Diego and whoever else isn't canon...**

* * *

Almost there...just a little bit further...

Keep the pace up...that's how he'd make it.

Just had to ignore the annoying sting on his leg...

Faster and faster, the mysterious figure raced down the trail, his breathing ragged from the heart-pounding chase. The jungle itself became a mass of blurred color to his eyes as the man sped away from the round of shouting and cursing gaining on him.

Oh, he wasn't scared.

He was terrified senseless.

But he knew he couldn't stop either. He knew the moment he'd stop would be the moment he'd die.

Besides, if he died, who else would protect_ it_ from the bandits?

All of a sudden, the robed man skidded to a halt before a massive ravine whose gaping black maw yawned hungrily for the next hapless soul to plummet down its depths.

_'¡Mierda! That's one hell of drop!'_

Thinking fast, the man gave the cliff side he stood on a thorough search for anything useful. There had to be a way to cross over to the other side. If he could only make it, he'd be home free. Unfortunately, judging by the rate at which the volume of the voices back in the dark jungle was ascending, the thief didn't have much time.

Fortunately, he didn't have to look for long. Hanging between the two walls of the ravine was a wooden bridge. It looked quite ancient and awful rickety but now wasn't the time to be picky or cautious.

_'Well, beggars can't be choosers.'_

With no time to waste, the thief dashed across the length of the side and to the bridge, barely making it to the structure before a band of rugged, tanned men crashed out of the bushes and onto the spot where he'd been mere moments didn't take long to spot him and, realizing his destination, give chase once more.

Dodging a sudden array of bullets was no easy task for the man and one heck of a close call (he could even feel the wind rushing on his cheek from one bullet that missed his face by one centimeter).

Regardless, the man, not even a scratch on him, still managed to reach the bridge and hurriedly made his way across it. He only succeeded in crossing the bridge about halfway, however, before a slight tremor in the wood below his feet brought his attention to the side he'd just departed from.

His pursuers were still on his tail!

_'¡Ay basura! What I wouldn't for some of that fancy voodoo magic right now! I could just abracadabra these hombres away like that!'_

Wait a second! Away...

_'Hmm, if I pull this off just right...'_

He had the right tool, and the bridge looked like it could still keep itself whole for the most part. All he needed left was...

_'Bingo!' _thought the rogue, eyes widened, when he finally spotted on other side of cliff exactly what he needed.

A sly smirk crossed the rogue's lips as he abruptly halted right in the middle of the bridge and, turning around swiftly, brought out a hand to signal his pursuers to halt in their tracks.

Surprisingly enough, the dumb goons obeyed the gesture, all of them confused as to what this guy had up his sleeve.

_ "¿Pens__áis vosotros niños que alcanzemos el nivel conmigo?"_ he called out to them daringly. _(You boys think you can keep up?)_

Now these men who were pursuing the rogue well understood what he was saying. What they didn't understand well was what this guy _meant_ by what he was saying...

And why he did have one hand gripping onto one of the rope railings of the bridge and another in the pocket of his khaki pants?

Unless...

Before the goons could put two and two together, the wood under their feet seemed to vanish into thin air. Caught by shock that naturally gave way to full-speed panic, the pursuers screamed as they plummeted into the gap, guns and swords lost from their hands due to the initial shock.

And where was the rogue, one would ask?

Well, aside from the fact that he was currently hanging by his hands on the rope railing he hadn't cut and was now one snap away from joining the poor slobs, he felt just fine, chilling over the ravine as if he hung over bottomless abysses like this every day.

"Yeah, didn't think so."

Those men just didn't know when to quit, did they? Too bad for them they grossly underestimated their "prey."

_'Oh well, better get a move on before their friends start missing 'em.'_

With that thought in mind, the rogue, after returning his knife to its sheath, straddled his way across the bridge. Without breaking a single sweat, he easily reached the other side that he could almost touch the rock.

But then the ropes snapped.

Together, the bridge and the rogue fell into the ravine... only one of them continued to plummet.

The unlucky one had been the bridge. Flapping its ropes like flailing tentacles, the structure vanished from sight as it joined the ravine's previous victims in the darkness below. The poor bridge might have survived if it had had arms and hands to catch and grip onto something...say like a vine sticking out from the cliff for instance...

At least, that's what the man thought as he, from his vantage point, watched the bridge's descent.

_'Well, that didn't go too bad.'_

Granted, the falling had been another close call but at least it had been a close call well remedied.

Speaking of close calls...

_'Can't expect mi amigo verde here to keep me up all day now, can I?'_

Without further ado, the rogue, now gripping the vine with both hands, swung his legs back and fro, building up more momentum with each swing. Before long, he was soon forming a half circle with this motion, and then let go as the vine came the closest it could to the edge of the cliff. With all the momentum from the swing propelling him, the daring rouge, at the arc of his swing, released the plant rope and flew for a split second before he caught onto the cliff edge by his fingers. And not too soon either because the vine, thanks to the loosened rock it had been attached to, plummeted into the ravine.

_'Heh, big guy's really getting a smorgasbord today,'_ was the weak joke (and the only joke) in the thief's mind as he lifted himself up onto solid ground, walked over to a nearby tree root, and collapsed onto it.

Man, he really needed a vacation. All this ducking and dodging could really tucker a guy out. Scoundrels like him needed a break, too, after all.

_'At least, ol' Diego's made it past the worst, beb__é!'_

"Ah, mi hermano...," a gutturally dark voice suddenly exclaimed from seemingly everywhere, making Diego's eyes shoot back open, "fancy seeing you here!"

Despite his exhaustion, Diego only slapped his face in frustrated disbelief.

_Someone_ spoke too _soon_.

* * *

**I took down this story down once, but this time it's here to stay!**


	2. Family Love

**I do not own Hey Arnold by the way. Only Diego and whoever else isn't canon...**

* * *

"Oh, my dear, dear brother," the disembodied cooed in a falsely sweet tone, "...you look so _very_ tired."

Before Diego could even open his mouth to send a clever retort, two pairs of heavyset arms seized him, pinioning his limbs before coercing him up to his feet. The entrapped thief merely grunted at the manhandling before aiming a cool glare to the portly figure looming from behind the leaves.

At long last, the brute in the shadows, realizing smugly that resistance from his captive was now impossible, finally emerged from the foliage, revealing his full visage.

The man sneering at Diego possessed a massive frame, especially at his gut. He also had quite a bit of hair on his deceptively muscular arms and hands. However, the bandit leader's expression lay hidden beneath a hood the same dark grey as Diego's, not only extending from the head to all the way in the back and to the man's waist but also drooping over the man's shoulders as well. The rest of the man's attire simply consisted of a red bandana that covered the lower half of the face, a black T-shirt, and dark brown camouflage pants.

All that could be seen of the obese man's face were two piercing black eyes.

Matching the massive man smirk for smirk, Diego popped his neck back before casually commenting, "Yeah, well, if you find the rest of your buddies, tell 'em I appreciated the warm-up." He mockingly added in his mind, _'That is if there's anything **left **of those guys to find...'_

A solid, meaty fist swiftly connected with Diego's stomach, knocking the wind out of the already exhausted rogue. That punch would have brought him right to his knees if the thugs hadn't been there to keep him standing.

"That is precisely _6_ men you owe me," hissed Diego's captor venomously, making dead sure to add a tad more bite—and spittle—on the number, "...you _traitor_..."

Despite getting nailed in the gut, the witty prisoner merely grunted then met his captor's dark glare with an impish grin.

"Ugh...hm...'traitor'... seriously, Alonzo, I thought you could come up with a better insult than that."

No punch was given this time. Instead, a gleaming machete knife came up close and personal in Diego's face, the tip of the deadly ebony blade nearly touching his nose.

Diego didn't even flinch.

"Let me make one thing clear, Diego. My name...is _La Sombra_. _¡Memorique eso!"_

_'Ay hermano...hombre, can you **get **anymore cliché?'_ Diego resisted the urge to roll his emerald eyes.

"Yeah, I know. I still got it memorized from the _last_ time you caught me. 'Member?"

All that comment did was help bring the knife even closer to his face, but, even then, the smartass grin never wavered.

"What_ I_ remember is that you have something of mine. Now...how about relinquishing _El Coraz__ón_, hmm? I will be _more_ than happy to release you if you comply. We are still _familia _after all, are we not, _mi hermano querido_?"

La Sombra gave a falsely sympathetic look and shrug of the shoulders. Once again, Diego did his best not to roll his own eyes and instead smiled in a way feigning understanding and willingness to cooperate.

"Yeah...sure man, course we are! I mean after all..."

In a flash of lightning, Diego sharply ducked down, an action that took the two thugs holding him by surprise and, therefore, bringing them down with him. Then, like an acrobat, Diego, making sure he had a grip on his two unwilling "partners," backflipped, kicking out his own legs as he did. The result was all three men flipping up in the air, two of which—the ones on the sides—were flipped once, this time in midair, then slammed down backs first with enough force to elicit very pained groans. All the while, La Sombra, being the overconfident man that he was, had let his guard down and lacked sufficient time to dodge Diego's agile maneuver... and so received a face full of foot that sent the burly man reeling in agony!

La Sombra's goons, like their leader_,_ even though they were of average intelligence and no strangers to escape attempts from prisoners, had also not fully anticipated such a limber and clever maneuver. In fact, while some of the bandits were checking on their wounded boss, the rest had stood around dumbfounded for a second.

That second was all the time Diego needed to leap from the spot where he'd landed neatly on his feet and into the dark foliage of the tree foliage hovering above.

And not a moment too soon as well because La Sombra quickly recovered from the aerial kick and growled fiercely, "Fire!"

Far from preferring the wrath of their short-tempered leader, all of La Sombra's men fired their hand guns and rifles, filling the branches overhead with smoke and lead.

All that fell out were a few twigs.

But no dead ex-bandit...who of which, much to the obliviousness of his brother and the other men, was, more or less, alive and well, watching them in amusement from the safety of a towering tree far away from the scene. Like a jaguar in hiding, he blended in quite well with the dark green canopy and the accompanying shadows thanks to his black cloak and army camouflage pants.

After a few more moments of taking in the entertainment, Diego leapt off the branch and into the jungle...but not after snidely finishing that last reply to his brother.

"Every family's gotta have a black sheep, am I right?"

* * *

Okay, granted, Alon—ahem, La Sombra didn't quite expect _that _move. On the other hand—

_'AHH! ¡Ese mono hurto es **tan** muerto!'(That thieving monkey is **so** dead!)_

He was not too amused either at the very least. To say he was not _impressed_, however, would have been an outright lie.

_ 'Looks like someone's been picking up a few new tricks...'_

Indeed...but now wasn't the time for idle thought and banter. That rat was still out there...a precious, ancient secret locked away in the confines of his mind...

And La Sombra would go _any _distance just to rip that secret out of him, brother or no brother.

A shadow extended past the dark-clad man, one of his loyal minions curious as to the next course of action (but also keeping a respectable—and safe—distance from him).

"Want 'im killed, boss?"

La Sombra didn't completely turn around to reply. He didn't need to ...the deadly vindication in his voice was more than enough to send the message through. The dark grimace that could detected from behind as his head pivoted slightly to the side, in spite of the cloak still shielding his face, promised nothing but malice.

"No, first squeeze out of him the location of _El Coraz__ón_. Then bring him to me so I can keep an eye on him. When he has served his purpose, _then_ he dies. Of course..."

The grimace twisted vilely into a cruel grin.

"I _am_ willing to overlook a few broken bones of course" he added casually, "...just to make sure he stays in line next time."

* * *

"Argh!"

Damn it, he had forgotten his injury! So much for a 'little scratch'... Actually, he was amazed he had managed the screaming pain in his limb during his clever escapade.

But he couldn't slow down _now_! Slowing down meant letting Alonzo win...letting Alonzo win meant letting _them_ die.

_'No way I'm letting 'em die on me! ¡No puedo hacerlo!' (No can do!)_

Just keep running...just keep running...just run_ning_, run_ning_, run_ning _**(1)**—the ex-bandit shook his head comically in spite of the severity of his situation. _'Well **that **train of thought's getting' annoyin'! Okay, let's think of somethin' else then!'_

Anything to keep his spirits (and maybe sanity) up while at the same time helping to disregard the fact that he was running for dear life!

_'Wait a sec! What the hell am **I **worried for? Pft, I made it through worse scraps than this!'_

In fact, this time wasn't the _first_ one in which he'd had a cut on himself. Hey, he'd even survived a broken arm... (Well okay maybe it had been a sprained arm instead but details, details...)

On the other hand..._'Man...I better patch myself up soon! Last thing I wanna have is an infection on my hands.'_

And so Diego, still grimacing from the pain, paused for a moment at a nearby tree to treat his wound. The tree he had stopped by had medicinal properties in its sap that he could apply to his laceration. Granted he had to resort to ripping off two pieces off of his own cloak, the very thing that had saved him from being spotted and therefore caught, in order to use the first piece as a means to stem the flow and the second as a makeshift bandage...but right now his own well-being held more priority to him than a common piece of cheap clothing. He also had to rip the end of the pant leg that had been stained by the blood from his injury and keep it in a plastic baggy until he found a more proper means of disposal.

Hey, Diego may have had plenty of faults, but being a litterbug wasn't one of them!

After cleaning his own wound via the supplies of a first aid kit (once again, "borrowed," but completely fresh of course) he kept hidden in one of the pockets of his camouflage pants, as well as some of the water from his canteen he kept chained to his black belt, and dressing the wound with the cloth, Diego, despite the limp in his step, continued his hurried trek through the jungle.

_'Keep going, Diego...just keep going...'_

* * *

"Are you sure this is the place, Miles?" a smooth, feminine voiced sounded out somewhere in the San Lorenzian jungle.

An eager, more masculine counterpart responded, "Yep, exactly how Eduardo described it! According to folklore, this temple used to belong to the Green Eyes."

"And whatever info's we're bound to find in this place is going to lead us to the jewel, am I right?"

"That's pretty much it, Stella."

"Then you _do_ realize that this place is bound to be full of traps, too, right?"

"Hmm...pretty much..."

A few moments of silence...

"And here I thought this trip would be dull..."

* * *

"And here I thought this trip would be dull..."

Believe it or not, the ever determined Diego now stood before an ancient yet heavily imposing temple reminiscent of the ones built by the ancient Mayans. All around the structure, both the color green and eye motifs were dominant in the design, the color weaving laterally in intricate patterns that increased in size with each architectural level closer to the base. Fortunately for Diego, rather than taking the path that went all the way to the top of the pyramid like most people, he took to searching for a secret entrance at the very base of the pyramid instead.

He felt around the temple walls while keeping his ears and his eyes peeled for any "giveaway" detail pertaining to a hidden passage.

_'Alright...Sooth said somethin' about 'the eye of sanctuary in the shadow of birth'...'_

Whatever the heck _that_ meant...Hey, everybody needs _some_ sort of hobby, right?

At least Diego wouldn't have to worry about being seen in broad daylight again—for the moment at least.

As long as he hurried up...which would also prevent Alonzo and his cronies from sniffing him out ...or at least lessen their chances of catching him.

Diego suddenly paused in his search, lost for thought. He stroked his connected short-cropped beard and moustache, his unruly black hair glistening from sweat in the late tropical afternoon sun.

"Hmm...Then again, the folks who built this place didn't make it just for looks. There could be all sortsa booby traps the way I'm going, _entrada secreta o no."_

He could even die in there the moment he stepped in and no one would be the wiser!

Diego merely shrugged his shoulders to no one particular before getting back to the search. _'Eh, death's pretty much ex-girlfriend at this point.' _

No argument there—this ex-bandit even made a quota of his to have a near-death experience every week. (Not every _day_ of course—even Diego wasn't that nuts.)

_'Sides...better death by poison arrows or falling giant rocks than death by psycho-mad brothers. ¿Ahora d__ónde est__á esa entrada maldita?' (Now where is that damn entrance?)_

The moment after that thought had passed, Diego's right foot accidently knocked in a block that had been sticking out so indiscriminately that only a thief of his expertise (or better yet dumb luck) could have triggered it. Instantaneously, a low droning rumble began to emanate as the blocks right in front of Diego began to tremble.

_'Bingo...!'_

Wisely, the sepia-toned man took a step back and waited patiently to see what would occur next.

About three seconds later, the rumbling ceased...only to continue once more as the same blocks sunk into the wall to form an indentation and then slide up to reveal a passageway, obscure and hidden from the ever-changing but forever watchful sky.

A massive, self-satisfied grin threatened to take off the sweat-ridden head of a half eye-lidded Diego.

_'Hah, and Soothy said this would be hard!'_ he mused triumphantly as he strolled in like a king.

Too bad the door didn't give a hoot about how he felt about staying, though, because it slammed back down shut the moment he went inside the lengthy stone hallway, the resultant clamor startling the man to the point that he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Poor guy had to shoot a hand to his chest to placate his accelerated heart...

_'Jesus, I swear I just got a **gray hair** from that!'_

Okay, okay...o-kay...no need to lose any cool here...Panicking was what fools did, and Diego, though he _was_ a bit of a joker, was no fool. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing to allow his heart necessary recovery.

_"¡C__álmate, Diego¡ ¡C__álmate!"_ he soothingly chanted to himself. "You lettin' architecture get the best of ya, man!"

_'Besides, since that tribe used to need this entrance, there ain't any traps to worry about here. Am I right, you ancient piece of stone or am I right?'_

The "ancient piece of stone" begged to differ.

In fact, the following scream affirmed the temple's opinion quite well:

"Look out!"

* * *

**I sincerely hope my Spanish was grammatically and cognately correct!**

**(1) ****And yes, that one was a "Finding Nemo" reference. XP**


End file.
